


Death and the Immortal Hilda Bracket

by maiden_aunt (SCFrankles)



Series: The Enchanting World of Reaper and Bracket [2]
Category: Dear Ladies
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Grim Reaper!Evadne, Halloween, Immortal!Hilda, Spook Me Multi-Fandom Halloween Ficathon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2017-10-27
Packaged: 2019-01-25 02:10:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12520600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SCFrankles/pseuds/maiden_aunt
Summary: Assisting the Grim Reaper in her work is beginning to take its toll on Hilda, so Evadne suggests she bend time a little and they take a short holiday at home. Evadne happens to pause them at Hallowe'en, and Hilda decides to dress up the vegetable patch's scarecrow in one of Evadne's spare Reaper robes...





	Death and the Immortal Hilda Bracket

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Spook Me Multi-Fandom Halloween Ficathon 2017](https://spook-me.dreamwidth.org/13003.html). You can see the picture prompt I used [here](https://images46.fotki.com/v147/photos/6/3814576/14412321/2307222a589e88df643004e9a00111-vi.jpg). 
> 
> Rated Teen just to be on the safe side. I'm specifically thinking of a description of an attempted murder right at the end (not involving Hilda or Evadne) but it's brief and non-graphic. And though the fic definitely has a lot of humour in it, the tone of this one is perhaps a little more serious than my usual Dear Ladies stories. 
> 
> Hinge and Bracket were created by Patrick Fyffe and George Logan. Dear Ladies was written by Fyffe and Logan, and Gyles Brandreth, and produced by the BBC.
> 
> * * *

A little time had passed since Hilda had found out Evadne was the Grim Reaper. Or maybe it was a lot of time. It all worked so differently now that she was immortal and assisting her friend. The two of them seemed to spend as much time as ever being Hilda and Evadne, two charming and genteel ladies taking part in the village activities and pottering round the old manse. But they also somehow managed to fit in collecting thousands of souls every day. It had all been rather exciting at first—like being a heroic duo. In fact, Hilda had wanted to refer to them both as ‘Death and the Immortal Hilda’. Evadne had put her bony foot down though. Said it smacked too much of a second-rate music hall act. 

But that had all been at _first._ Now they’d been collecting souls together for a little time (or maybe a lot of time), Hilda wasn’t sure if she’d ever completely get used to it. It was one thing collecting the souls of people who’d died quietly and peacefully in a warm bed at the end of a long and reasonably content life. But there were also the premature deaths. Accidents. Terrible illnesses. Death from famine and natural disasters. 

The souls themselves seemed to have an instinctive acceptance of the death of their bodies. After receiving an explanation from Evadne they always appeared comfortable with the new situation and were willing to move on. Hilda would stand back and watch her friend and colleague have the same conversation over and over again, always kind and patient. There was an understanding between the souls and Evadne that Hilda couldn’t quite be involved in—hers was a different kind of immortality. And though she was happy the newly deceased weren’t afraid or suffering, they always made her feel a little sad. Something important and essential about the person was lost in the transition. Yes, it was reassuring to see there was nothing to fear about death, but she still wasn’t ready to give up being Hilda Bracket yet. 

Of course… the worst deaths were people who died at the hands of others. By the very nature of the crime, when Evadne and Hilda turned up at the moment of death the murderer would often still be there, though they couldn’t see Death and her companion. Hilda had witnessed so many murderers’ reactions: gleeful, dispassionate, self-righteous, the murderer frightened for themself, or already horrified at what they’d done. 

Just this night Hilda and Evadne had collected the soul of an elderly man killed by someone he’d loved and trusted. Afterwards, they gave him a lift in the Rolls to the Afterlife, the newly deceased chatting to Evadne in the back of this and that. He had left all fear, hatred and anger behind, just as the souls always did. Hilda, on the other hand, found it difficult to concentrate on her driving she was trembling so much. 

Once they were back at Utopia Limited, Evadne went to put the kettle on and Hilda headed out into the garden. This was ostensibly to pick a cabbage for dinner but mostly it was to have a few moments alone to recover. She nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw Evadne already waiting for her at the vegetable patch, and then felt like an utter fool when she realised it was the scarecrow.

Hilda caught her breath and gave the scarecrow an affectionate pat on the arm.

“You and Evadne… You may both be a little spooky but at least I can trust you to always behave yourselves.”

She rubbed thoughtfully at the scarecrow’s sleeve. 

“I have to say that dress looks a lot better on you than it ever did on her though.” 

Hilda heard footsteps and turned to see the real Evadne approaching, now thankfully back to her more familiar appearance of Doctor of Music and part-time herbalist.

Evadne gave Hilda a cautious smile. “The tea’s ready, Hilda.”

“Thank you, dear. I won’t be a minute.”

Hilda hid her face from Evadne as she fussed around choosing a cabbage. Finally she straightened up with her selection, and then the two of them made their way back to the house, entering through the French windows. 

“Hilda, shall I…?”

“Oh, yes. Thank you, dear.”

Hilda handed the cabbage to Evadne who took it off into the kitchen. Hilda herself went straight to her armchair and sank down into it, staring off at nothing in particular.

Evadne came back into the lounge with the tea tray. She set it on the coffee table, made up two cups, took one over to Hilda and then went and sat back down on the sofa with her own.

She studied the silent Hilda for a moment.

“You know…” 

Evadne hesitated. 

“You don’t have to pretend, Hilda. You don’t have to help me any more, if it’s too much for you. I won’t make you—”

She glanced upwards, to where the cuckoo clock marking the passage of Hilda’s life was hidden in the attic, the cuckoo’s door firmly glued shut.

Evadne smiled awkwardly. 

“—get out the solvent.”

“What...?”

Hilda came back to herself and stared at her friend. 

“Oh! No, dear.”

She shook her head.

“That’s very kind of you, Evadne, but...”

Hilda sat up a little straighter.

“I said I would help you and I intend to stick to that promise. It just wouldn’t be right to have this immortality and not do something with it.”

“Well, it’s your choice but…”

Evadne considered Hilda with a worried expression.

“I do think you need a little break, dear. Why don’t we go away somewhere? Up to Scotland. Or what about a few days in London at Queens of the Theatre?”

Hilda didn’t look enthusiastic. “I’d much rather keep away from people and the outside world for a while, if I were being honest.”

“So why don’t we just have a few quiet days here together then?” 

Evadne gestured towards the French windows. 

“Tidying up the garden, perhaps. All those leaves need to be got off the lawn. A bit of fresh air and light, relaxing work. Just the two of us.”

Hilda gave Evadne a small smile. “That does sound nice.” She furrowed her brow. “But can you simply take time off like that?”

“Not really.” Evadne waved a hand vaguely. “I’ll be… bending time a little. Just for a while. It won’t do any harm.”

“Well, if you’re sure.” 

Hilda beamed. 

“A little holiday at home sounds perfect.” 

 

 

Evadne looked up from where she was raking the leaves together. 

“Hilda, what on earth are you doing?”

Hilda paused in the act of lighting up her vegetable.

“I’ve made a swede lantern, dear.” She paused. “Sorry— _turnip_ lantern. Mustn’t forget your Scottish ancestry.”

Evadne frowned. “But why?”

“Well, you and your mother made such a fuss about calling swedes turnips last time she was here and so I thought—”

Evadne waved a hand.

“No, dear. No. Why have you made the lantern?”

“Oh!”

Hilda smiled at her.

“I’d rather lost track of time so I checked the calendar, dear. You’ve paused us at Hallowe’en! I thought we might as well celebrate.”

Evadne raised an eyebrow. “I am the Grim Reaper, Hilda. Every day is Hallowe’en rather. You can get a bit sick of it.”

“But what about when you were young and celebrating it with your mother? I thought you enjoyed it then.” Hilda looked thoughtful. “Actually, how does that work? The Grim Reaper having a mother, I mean.”

Evadne gave Hilda a mildly condescending smile. “Mother is the personification of Transgression, Omission and Immorality, dear.”

Hilda stared. 

“Evadne, I know you don’t get on with your mother but that’s a _terrible_ thing to say.”

Evadne sighed. 

“No, Hilda. Mother really _is_ the personification of Transgression, Omission and Immorality. Surely you remember those lines from James: _Then when lust hath conceived, it bringeth forth sin: and sin, when it is finished, bringeth forth death.”_

“Oh, I see! So Maureen is sin personified. That explains a lot actually.” Hilda’s eyebrows rose considerably. “And your grandmother must have been quite a goer too...”

Evadne looked uncomfortable. “We don’t talk about Granny.”

Hilda wasn’t paying attention.

“But why do you all come from Scotland? Is there something innately sinful about northern parts?”

“Well, if you’ve ever been in Glasgow for Hogmanay…” 

Evadne smiled and shook her head. 

“No. Sin is everywhere of course.” Her smile dropped away again. “That’s why Mother is such a darned nuisance.”

She shrugged.

“Being Scottish is just an assumed part of my current human persona. Bit of backstory.” 

“I see.” Hilda looked rather sadly at her lantern. “So you don’t want to celebrate then?”

Evadne rolled her eyes. 

“Hilda, this is _your_ holiday. If you want to have a lantern, that is fine with me.”

Hilda smiled broadly. “Excellent! Thank you, dear.”

She struck a match, lit the candle, and replaced the lantern’s lid. She held it up by its wire handle.

“You know, we do rather need it now. It’s starting to get dark.”

“It is somewhat. Getting quite difficult to see.” Evadne gazed about and paused. She stared out into the gathering dusk. “Hilda… Is that someone in the garden? Just standing there in the distance, staring at us.”

Hilda giggled. 

“I wouldn’t have expected the Grim Reaper to get jumpy.” 

She smiled at Evadne. 

“That’s the scarecrow, dear. Over in the vegetable patch.”

Evadne furrowed her brow as she stared in the scarecrow’s direction. “But… It looks different from usual, doesn’t it?”

“Ah, well. I’ve dressed that up for Hallowe’en too.” Hilda looked proudly over at the scarecrow too. 

“And… it’s still in the vegetable patch, you say?”

Hilda turned back to look at Evadne. “Well, of course it is, dear. Where else would I put it?”

Evadne shook her head a little. “It just doesn’t look like it’s in quite the right position…”

“Oh, it’s the light going,” said Hilda. “It’s playing tricks on your eyes.”

Evadne glanced at Hilda.

“No, I’m sure it—”

She turned back to look at the scarecrow and froze.

“Hilda. I swear it’s changed position again.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, dear. It can’t just move on its own.”

Hilda leant forwards to stare at the scarecrow in the distance. She frowned.

“I do know what you mean though. It does almost look like it’s wandered away from the vegetable patch.”

Evadne’s eyes were fixed on the scarecrow. “Hilda… what is it dressed in?”

Hilda beamed. “One of your spare robes, dear! The midnight blue one.” She raised a finger. “Oh! And I got your scythe out of the shed.”

Evadne turned slowly and stared at Hilda. “You can’t use my robes for scarecrows.”

Hilda frowned. “But you always use your clothes for the scarecrow. And I didn’t use your main robe. Only one of the backup ones.”

Evadne’s eyebrows shot up. 

“I use my _human_ clothes, Hilda! The robes have a certain… power. I don’t know what would happen if anyone else but me wore them.”

She turned back to stare at the scarecrow. 

“That thing has definitely moved again.” Her face was even paler than usual. “Hilda, it’s moving, and it’s got my scythe!”

Hilda began to look uneasy herself. “Well, even if your robe were making it move about—and I’m not saying it is—the scarecrow couldn’t hurt us, could it? You’re Death personified and I’m immortal.”

“It could still hurt you pretty badly with that scythe, even if it can’t take your soul!”

Evadne leant forwards to stare harder in the scarecrow’s direction.

“Hilda, believe me. The scarecrow is moving. And it’s heading for us!”

The scarecrow was close enough now that it was indeed impossible to ignore the fact it was in motion. It lurched progressively forward, its arms bent at awkward angles as it held the scythe in the stuffed gloves that acted as its hands—straw poking out of its sleeves and around the witch’s mask that served as its face.

“Hilda…”

Evadne began backing away, but Hilda was watching the scarecrow in disbelief. Evadne tugged on her arm. 

“Hilda, it’s not moving quickly. Let’s just make our way back to the house. Once I know you’re inside and safe, I’ll be able to think about finding a way to stop it.”

Hilda looked at her uncomprehendingly. “Evadne… The scarecrow’s really moving.”

Evadne nodded vigorously. “Yes, dear. So let’s get you back inside!”

“Oh! Yes, of course.” Hilda shook her head, and glanced back towards the house. “Getting back inside does sound like an excellent idea.”

With the timing born of many years making music together, Evadne and Hilda backed away in perfect synchrony.

Unfortunately, as though aware its prey was making a getaway, the scarecrow increased its speed a little.

“Hilda…” said Evadne out of the side of her mouth. “I think we’re going to have to run. Are you ready?”

Hilda gave a minute nod.

“Then… run!”

They galloped away, Hilda still clutching with determination to her turnip lantern.

In her far more sensible shoes and with her longer legs, Evadne made better headway. Hilda looked forward at her friend and then looked back over her shoulder.

The scarecrow was going at quite a speed, despite its awkward gait.

“Evadne!” panted Hilda. “I think it’s gaining on me! What are we going to do?”

Evadne looked back at Hilda.

“I’ll see if I can draw it away! You keep going towards the house!”

Evadne stopped, turned and waved at the scarecrow.

“Hey! Over here!”

She ran off towards the rose garden. But the scarecrow seemed to pay her no attention. It continued on in the direction of Hilda. 

“Blast!” 

Evadne ran back the way she’d come. 

The scarecrow was getting closer and closer to Hilda now, and had begun swiping at her with the scythe.

“Oh, my God! Hilda!”

Hilda turned, and her eyes widened as she saw the scarecrow only yards away. 

She stopped and held up the lantern.

“Let’s see if this really works then! Keeping away things that go bump in the night!”

“Hilda, no! Keep running, please—!” Evadne’s hands flew to her mouth.

But the scarecrow _did_ come to a stop, flinching away from Hilda. 

Hilda grinned and called over to Evadne.

“Look, dear! I didn’t really expect it to work! I mean, it doesn’t work on you, does it?”

Evadne dropped her hands and gave a huge sigh of relief. 

“I think it’s the flame, Hilda! The wretched thing is worried about its straw going up!”

“Oh, of course!” 

Hilda looked at the scarecrow and then back at Evadne.

“Should we just make our way back to the house walking backwards then? Holding up the lantern all the way?”

Evadne shook her head.

“We don’t know when the scarecrow might decide to risk it, and get close enough to… scythe… you.”

She gestured off to the side.

“No, I’ve got a better plan. To the shed!”

“To the—?” Hilda shook her head and set off after the already running Evadne. 

Evadne reached the shed, opened the door and got inside. She held it ajar as Hilda approached. “Put the lantern down outside, dear! That’s it!”

Hilda dropped the lantern and scampered forward. 

Evadne dragged her into the shed, slamming the door shut. She slumped in relief. “Thank heavens!”

“But we’re… not safe here… are we?” Hilda attempted to catch her breath. “You can only bolt and padlock the door from the outside. And the lantern won’t keep the scarecrow away, surely. It can just go round it. ”

“We’re not staying here, Hilda!”

Evadne pointed dramatically.

“We’re here for the _mower!”_

She scrambled onto the seat of her ride-on mower and looked at Hilda.

“Come on—you can sit on my knee!”

“Rightio, dear.”

Hilda paused though, and furrowed her brow.

The front of the mower was facing the back wall of the shed.

“Isn’t it pointing in the wrong direction…? I mean, don’t you need to turn it round first?”

In the midst of the stress and terror, Evadne still managed to look somewhat embarrassed. 

“Er, no, dear. There’s a little problem I’ve been having with the gears and—”

She threw up her hands.

“Oh, I’ll explain later! Just get on!”

Hilda hurriedly did so and Evadne started the ignition. 

“Hold tight, dear. Here we go!”

They shot backwards out of the shed, the door flying open. Hilda looked somewhat bemused as they accelerated past the scarecrow and continued to go backwards in the direction of the house. “Well, I suppose at least we can keep an eye on exactly where the scarecrow is.”

“I’ll do that, dear!” Evadne gestured with her head. “You look behind us! Tell me when I’m getting close!”

Hilda turned to look. She called directions to Evadne. 

“Yes, you’re doing well! Keep going! Keep going! Straighten up a little to your right… That’s it! We’re almost at the edge of the lawn and at the terrace! Stop, dear! _Stop!”_

Evadne brought the mower to a halt and she and Hilda tumbled off the seat and dashed for the French windows. 

Hilda pulled at the handle and then rummaged desperately in her pocket.

“Evadne! I’ve dropped the key somewhere! Do you have yours?”

Evadne smiled calmly. 

“Don’t worry, dear. Remember, Death can never truly be locked out…”

There was a blurring around her form and in a trice Evadne was her skeletal self, wrapped in her black robe. She twisted the handle and the French window opened without any fuss. The two of them rushed inside and Evadne slammed the door shut.

“There we are! Safely locked behind us.”

They moved further into the room and huddled together, watching as the scarecrow came closer and closer. 

It paused for a moment before the French windows, and it tried the handle.

The door opened. 

Hilda stared in horrified fascination as their pursuer threw the door wide and lurched into the lounge. “It seems Scarecrow Death can’t be locked out either, Evadne.”

Evadne was pushing at her.

“Hilda, get behind me. It can’t harm me. Maybe give my bones a nasty whack with that scythe but nothing worse than that.”

“Can’t you talk to it? Tell it to stop?” Hilda gazed at Evadne, her eyes wide. 

Evadne shrugged hopelessly.

“Well, I suppose I can try...”

She stepped forward and raising a phalange, she addressed the scarecrow.

“Now look here, dear. One Death in the world is more than enough. And the job’s no fun you know. Long hours. The work’s endless! So why don’t you put down the scythe and we’ll—”

The scarecrow abruptly swung the scythe and sliced the phalange off. Evadne hurriedly retreated back to Hilda. 

“I think it’s running mainly on instinct, dear.”

She stared in irritation at her hand. 

“And that’s going to take some fixing.”

Hilda was panting in fear. “Yes, well, I’m likely to lose a lot more than a finger if we can’t get away from that thing! What are we going to do?”

The scarecrow came closer and closer, and Hilda and Evadne retreated until they hit the far wall. At which point Evadne hurriedly shielded Hilda, pressing her into the wall with her bony back. 

The scarecrow halted.

The only sound for a long moment was of Hilda’s panicked breathing. 

Then the scarecrow turned, and headed out towards the hallway.

Evadne stared after it, and let Hilda out from behind her.

Hilda was almost collapsing from relief. “Thank heavens! We’re safe! It’s lost interest in me!”

“Maybe not, Hilda…”

Evadne hurried after the scarecrow and after she’d pulled herself together, Hilda followed her.

The scarecrow was slowly ascending the stairs. 

Evadne turned to Hilda and pointed upwards.

“It’s heading for the attic!”

Hilda blanched. “Do you think—?”

“Of course it’s going after your cuckoo clock!”

Evadne started up after the scarecrow, Hilda following close behind. 

By the time they reached the top floor of the house, the scarecrow had already got the attic door open. The scythe lay on the floor at the back of the room and the scarecrow had begun to rummage through the many trunks, bags and boxes that the attic contained.

It finished going through a box of scrapbooks and turned its attention to a large brown leather trunk.

Hilda stiffened. 

The scarecrow threw open the lid, dug down deep, and pulled out the kimono Hilda had worn long ago in The Mousmé. It shook it out and something fell to the floor. The scarecrow stooped and picked it up.

It was the cuckoo clock.

The scarecrow traced a gloved finger around the little door at the top. It rummaged once again in the trunk and pulled out a nail file, and it began attempting to lever the little door open. 

“So this is it!”

Hilda clutched at Evadne, her eyes shut tight. 

“The cuckoo will come out and call the end of my life! Evadne, I’m not ready! I don’t want to leave you!”

“Oh, Hilda!” 

Evadne embraced her friend. 

“I’m so sorry it had to be like this! I don’t want you to go either!”

The two of them held each other close and waited for the end.

And waited.

And _waited._

Evadne abruptly started to laugh, and Hilda opened an eye.

“Well! You could be a little more sympathetic, Evadne.”

“But Hilda, look.”

Hilda opened her other eye too. 

Her eyebrows rose. 

The straw Death was holding the cuckoo clock in its hands, the little door wide open. But the cuckoo wasn’t coming out.

Evadne turned to Hilda. “It’s a _scarecrow._ The cuckoo is too frightened to come out. You’re safe after all!”

She glanced back at the scarecrow.

“You know, I think together we might be able to overcome it while it’s distracted.”

She leant her head closer to Hilda’s.

“I’ll go for the scythe: I’ll be better at wielding it. You try and grab the scarecrow from behind!”

“All right, dear,” whispered Hilda. 

Evadne silently held up a hand. 

Then she frowned at the space where a phalange should have been, and held up the other hand instead. 

She raised her bony forefinger, and abruptly moved it downwards. 

At the signal, they rushed forwards together.

The scarecrow looked up at their thunderous approach but Evadne galloped past it without stopping and bent to grab the scythe up off the floor. The scarecrow dropped the cuckoo clock, came after her and grabbed her around the middle.

Hilda’s attention stayed on the cuckoo clock though. Keeping half a panicked eye on it, she looked about desperately and spotted the scrapbook filled with her cuttings for 1953. She grabbed it and dashed over to the clock. Flipping its little door shut, she dropped the scrapbook on top.

“There! That should hold it until I can find the glue. Thank heavens that particular scrapbook’s so heavy.”

Hilda stared dreamily off into the distance.

“1953—what a year that was. I remember when we played…”

_“Hilda!”_

Hilda looked over at Evadne.

“Oh, yes! Sorry, dear!”

Hilda ran over and began attempting to pull the scarecrow away from Evadne.

Evadne straightened up, and with the assistance of Hilda pulling in the opposite direction, managed to yank herself free from the scarecrow’s grasp. She turned and waved the scythe in its masked face.

“Get back!”

The scarecrow seemed unperturbed though. It grabbed at the scythe’s handle and a tug of war began between it and Evadne.

“Hilda…!” Evadne bent her skull to one side, so she could look round the scarecrow. “Hilda, the robe! It’s our best chance!”

“Of course!”

Hilda thrust her arms over the scarecrow’s shoulders and grabbed hold of two handfuls of cloth. She pulled as hard as she could backwards, attempting to get the robe off. The scarecrow struggled against her but it wouldn’t let go of the scythe.

Hilda managed to get the robe off the scarecrow’s shoulders, revealing Evadne’s old frock.

“Well done, dear!” called Evadne. “Keep going!”

Hilda kept yanking and pulling.

“I can’t get it off its arms!” she panted. “Not while it’s holding onto the scythe!”

“Leave it with me!”

Evadne abruptly let go of the scythe, and the scarecrow staggered backwards clutching it. This brief moment of confusion allowed Evadne to step forward and pull the scythe from it again. 

“Now, Hilda!”

As the scarecrow reached forward to reclaim the scythe, Hilda pulled hard. The scarecrow’s arms were bent backwards, the robe slipped off and the scarecrow froze for a minute. 

Then it toppled forwards onto the floor and laid still—once again simply some straw in the shape of a woman. 

Evadne stared down in relief. “Thank heavens for that! Hilda, I’m so happy you’re safe.”

“Me too, dear. Me too!” Hilda clutched the robe to her. “It gives me chills to think how close I came to kicking the bucket there.”

She shivered, and swung the robe around her shoulders.

Evadne stopped examining the scarecrow and looked up abruptly. 

“Hilda! What on earth are you doing?”

“What’s that, dear…?”

Hilda looked down at the robe and her eyes widened as she realised what she was wearing.

She smiled weakly up at Evadne.

“This may have been a bad decision.”

Evadne frantically waved her bony hands. “Take it off, Hilda! Take it off! It’s not meant to be worn by a mortal being!” 

Hilda frowned. “But I’m not a mortal being—at least not at the moment…” 

The frown turned into a more thoughtful expression. 

“Oo, I feel all tingly.”

“Hilda!”

Evadne hurried over.

However, all that seemed to be happening was Hilda reaching a hand inside the robe and pulling out a long piece of paper.

Hilda stared at it and then held it up.

“Look, Evadne! I’ve got your list.”

“What?” 

Evadne quickly took it from Hilda. Then she relaxed and shook her skull.

“No, it’s like my list but the times are wrong. A little too early in all cases. And it’s not everyone—just a handful of people really. Wait a moment…”

Evadne pulled out her own list from her robe. She bent her skull to look more closely. 

“How odd… Some of the names on mine are fading in and out. That shouldn’t be happening.”

She looked at Hilda’s list again.

“And I think it’s the names on _your_ list that are acting oddly on mine.”

“Evadne…” Hilda was leaning across Evadne to see, and a smile was beginning to spread across her face. “Maybe… Maybe these are people that could be saved.”

“Saved…?” Evadne turned her skull in her friend’s direction. 

“Yes! By me!”

Hilda’s smile was getting broader.

“Look! My ‘appointments’ are earlier than yours, and the names of those people are fading in and out on your list, as though it isn’t certain whether they’re going to die or not.”

Hilda slapped her list triumphantly.

“It must mean I can turn up and alter things! Stop these deaths from happening!”

Evadne shook her skull in bemusement. “I’ve never heard of such a thing in all my years of existence. Do you really think that’s possible?”

Hilda was beaming. “There’s only one way to find out.” 

Evadne glanced at Hilda’s list again.

“Even if it is possible though… You must understand, Hilda, this is just a drop in the ocean. There would still be premature deaths—there would still be murders. Fate can’t be interfered with on too great a scale.”

“But at least I’ll be doing _something.”_

Hilda looked at Evadne.

“Please, dear. Let me try.”

Evadne was silent for a moment. Then she nodded her skull and handed over Hilda’s list. “Of course you must try, Hilda.”

“Thank you, dear.”

Hilda smiled a little. 

“You know, I always knew this immortality must have some purpose. That I had been called to serve. To put the happiness of others before my own. To perform some higher work far above worldly concerns...”

She pulled at her robe. 

“I might just make some adjustments to this first though. Glam it up a little.”

Evadne sighed.

 

 

Kenneth had lost his temper again like so many times before. But this time he couldn’t seem to stop himself. This time he couldn’t imagine the future and the results of his actions. His hands were round Brenda’s throat and he _wanted_ her to stop breathing. He didn’t care that death was coming. There was nothing to stop him now. He hated her and he wanted—

Something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye.

He turned.

It was a figure. Long, dark robes. A witch’s mask, and straw poking out of its cuffs and from around its neck.

Kenneth released his hold and his wife dropped to the floor. He stepped away from her, his heart racing even more than before.

The figure approached silently, arms stuck out to the sides, and walking stiffly and unnaturally.

He thought hysterically for a moment how unlikely it was to find a scarecrow in the kitchen of a five bedroom suburban house. 

And then he fled out of the house, not looking behind him. 

The figure paused. Then Hilda threw back her hood and removed her mask, tucking it inside her robe.

“Excellent.”

She turned to look at the woman collapsed on the ground, wheezing and weeping and unaware of her presence. 

Hilda scanned the kitchen, spotted a telephone on the wall and dialled 999. 

“Yes, an ambulance and the police, please.” 

She dropped the receiver and left it hanging so the call could be traced to the house.

Evadne stepped out of the shadows and beckoned. 

“Hilda! Time to go!”

They moved together back into the shadows and emerged outside the house where the Rolls was waiting. 

They got in and Evadne showed Hilda her list. 

“Brenda Dallow. She’s gone right down to the lower end again. Got another forty years to live.”

“It works! It really works!” Hilda beamed. “We’re going to be the perfect partnership—you in charge of death and me in charge of life. The dynamic duo: The Grim Reaper and the Merry Bird-Scarer!”

“Merry Bird-Sca—?” Evadne looked at Hilda. “Why ‘bird-scarer’? Why not simply…?”

Hilda adjusted her midnight blue robe. “Evadne, please. I might have a little straw stuffing for effect, but nobody could ever accuse me of resembling a _scarecrow.”_

She turned the key in the ignition and put the Rolls into gear. 

Evadne shook her skull. “I still think the diamantés might be a _little_ too much, dear.”


End file.
